


Stand By Him

by singswithtrees



Category: Ghost (Sweden Band)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:33:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28353990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/singswithtrees/pseuds/singswithtrees
Summary: Cardinal Copia feels increasingly more anxious as his first Black Mass at the Abbey approaches.  He has a panic attack, and Papa III/Terzo helps to calm him down.  A gift fic for @copias-rat-shelter on Tumblr.  Happy fic exchange, hope it's to your liking! ^_^
Comments: 4
Kudos: 11
Collections: Ghost BC Gift Exchange 2020





	Stand By Him

**Author's Note:**

  * For [copias-rat-shelter on Tumblr](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=copias-rat-shelter+on+Tumblr).



Even when not directly being watched, Copia knew that all eyes were on him. All ears listened, and all lips whispered of his every move, proper or improper. Still a fresh face at the Abbey, the Cardinal hadn’t yet settled into his quarters, much less into a routine. Though he had been Papa Nihil’s right-hand man for several years now, he was used to a far quieter, more scholastic life. The noise and bustle of the main Abbey, and the sheer amount of both humans and ghouls about, pressed in on him from every side. No one had been overtly unpleasant, it was true, but he knew that he was being constantly scrutinized and his measure taken. 

And he would not let himself be found wanting.

There were standards that had to be upheld, and the highest standards had to be for one’s own work. I must show them all that I am indispensable, he thought to himself as he bustled down a hallway with an armful of black taper candles. There were always more members of the clergy waiting in the wings, power-hungry, who’d be more than happy to claim a comfortable position as a Cardinal if he misstepped. 

Turning a corner in the winding halls, Copia picked up his pace, his brow furrowing as he considered all of the other things that he would need. He had been invited to be the celebrant for the next Black Mass--a great honor, and one that he intended to carry out flawlessly. The right Sibling of Sin must be selected for the altar, the candles and the incense must be just so, and the ritual chapel spotless and sparkling. His list of tasks kept growing in his mind, and with each new chore, his breathing grew fast and shallow, and he had to force himself to slow down, inhale deeply, and count to ten. Time felt as though it was speeding by, but when he checked his watch, only a handful of minutes would have passed. At this rate, it was going to be a long and sleepless night.

When Cardinal Copia at last reached the chapel, a few ghouls were already present, mopping the floor, polishing the wood of the pews, and erecting a ladder to take down the tapestries for cleaning. Instead of his usual awkward but cheerful greeting and wave, he offered nothing more than a curt nod as he carefully laid the tapers down on the altar. The ghoul closest to him tilted their head, the expressionless silver mask still somehow managing to convey curiosity. Copia shot a quick glance in the ghoul’s direction as he removed his gloves, folding them and setting them down next to the candles. “How are we coming along with cleaning the chapel?”

The ghoul shrugged. “Could be worse. Still some pretty tricky bloodstains to get out around the base of the altar, the tapestries need a good beating, and the candelabras need polishing all round. But hey, we’ve got it covered, Cardinal, don’t you worry. We--”

Copia frowned. “Are you using a pocket knife to remove wax from the altar?”

Another shrug. “Gets it off, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, but it scratches the stone, and there may still be a stain left behind! We’ll need ice and mineral spirits to take it all off properly. And are you--” Copia turned his attention to the ghoul with the wood polish. “Are you dusting the pews first, or just putting on more polish over the dirt?”

“There’s...no dirt, not really,” the ghoul replied, confused. “It all gets cleaned on the regular, and polished monthly, so there’s nothing to get ground into the wood or anything. See?”

“I--” Copia pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to think of a civil way to put things as he felt a headache coming on. He drew a deep and even breath. The Mass was still two days away, but if things ended up needing to be redone, that time would fly by. “I do see. Thank you. But could you...do you think that you could help with the tapestries instead? I’d...prefer to do this myself.”

“How much of this?” the ghoul who’d been mopping the floor asked, looking around the very large space. 

“You just worry about the tapestries, please, I’ll take on everything else.”

“Everything else?”

“Everything else.”

“Sure thing, if that’s what you want, Cardinal.” The ghoul handed him the mop, exchanging glances with the other who’d been working on the pews. Their eyes lingered on Copia for what felt like eternity before turning to help take down the wall hangings. 

He felt their gaze still, lingering and judging him, even after they had left the chapel.

Two hours and several bags of ice later, the Cardinal had managed to get the excess wax off of the marble of the altar. It had been tedious work, punctuated by the occasional Sibling or ghoul peeking curiously in, only to be curtly told that he was just fine, thank you, and could they please leave him in peace to do his work. A few offered protestations, but they were dismissed with a wave of his hand. At last, he resorted to closing and barring the doors from the inside, and threw himself fully into his labor. 

The floors were swept and mopped, and candelabras were polished until they gleamed, warm and golden. But even though they were clean, Copia went over each again in turn, inch by tedious inch. The chapel still wasn’t perfect, not by any means. The candles must be perfectly straight, the inlaid pentagram in the altar given an extra coat of sealant, and there was still the matter of the pews. And he hadn’t even touched the thuribles yet, or made certain that the mix of ingredients in the incense was correct, or that there was wine enough for everyone, or a thousand other details. Individually, each task was simple, direct. But together, they amounted to a formidable mountain that grew taller the higher he climbed. If I can’t finish it, and finish it to perfection, he thought grimly, there’ll be no end to the whispers. Everyone would stop their conversations as he came close, he knew it, would stop and stare until he had passed. He knew that they were talking about him. He knew that he wasn’t worthy in their eyes. In Papa Nihil’s eyes. Perhaps, also, in Sister Imperator’s eyes, too, after the travesty that he knew that this Black Mass would be. What other outcome could there be? Nothing that he could do would be good enough. 

Copia felt his heart beating faster and faster still, and as his mouth went dry and dizziness overtook him, he sank to his knees next to the altar.

Now, that was odd, Terzo thought as he tugged on the handle of the heavy oak door. This door into the ritual chapel was never locked. As he went around to the other three doorways, he felt steadily more puzzled. Who’d barred themselves inside? Primo liked his privacy, but mostly kept to the gardens and to his study when he wanted to be alone, and his other brother was out on the town tonight. So who was it?

There was one potential way to find out. There was one door that most of the clergy didn’t know about, small and off to the side, that led into the sacristy, where the supplies for Mass and the vestments were kept. And from the sacristy, it was one more doorway, and then into the chapel.

Into the chapel, where he found the Cardinal who had only recently come to the Abbey crumpled and trembling beside the cold marble altar. Terzo made his footsteps a little louder, so as not to startle Copia, and knelt down beside him, placing a gentle hand on the other man’s shoulder.

“Long night? You don’t look so good,” he said quietly. “Can I sit with you? Just sit, nothing else.” He drew a deep breath, slow and even, and took a small nod of the Cardinal’s head for a yes. “Breathe with me, eh? In--”

Copia inhaled with a soft sob.

“--and out. Get all of the bad air out.” The other man’s exhale was a little less shaky, a little more even, but not by much. 

“I can’t, it’s too much, it’s too much, I can’t--”

“Close your eyes,” Terzo replied. “Let me help. Is this all right?” He extended both of his arms, offering an embrace. Copia, after another shuddering breath, assented, and collapsed into the hug. “Tighter? I know that pressure can help when the panic comes.”

“Tighter, yes.”

Terzo’s arms held him more firmly. “Focus on my breath, try to make yours match mine. Just think about breathing, in and out. In and out.”

“But Papa, I--”  
“Nothing else,” Terzo admonished. “For now, we’re just breathing. In, and out.”

“In and out.”

“Yes, very good.”

After several minutes had passed, Terzo rummaged in one of his pockets and produced a wrinkled handkerchief, and offered it to Copia, who accepted it with a nod. “Want to talk?”

And it all came tumbling out, fear after fear, worry after worry. Each robe that needed to be starched and pressed, each pew that wasn’t properly spotless. Each and every sign that the Cardinal was not suitable for the clergy, each and every thing that he might and would fail at. Terzo simply held him and listened, until Copia ran out of words.

“Nobody expects you to be as perfect as you expect yourself to be,” he finally offered. “You’re being too hard on yourself. It’s your first Mass here with all of us, right? You’re brand new at having such an audience.” Terzo gave a small grin. 

“I need to do well!” Copia protested. “I’ve celebrated the Black Mass many times before, so I should know how--”

“How could you? You’ve never done it here, in this chapel, with these people. I think,” Terzo continued, rising to his feet, “that you ought to take a break. Have some food, have some rest!” He reached a hand out to help the other man up.

“No, I couldn’t, I need to--”

“You need to eat. You need to rest. And I’m coming with you, to make sure that you do both.” 

The Cardinal rolled his eyes, but took Terzo’s hand at last.


End file.
